


Might as Well

by pixielove



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction
Genre: Angst, Blowjobs, Fluff, Hannah Walker - Freeform, Harry Styles crossdressing, Harry Styles in Sophia's corset, Harry Styles lipstick blowjobs, Harry is a fairy, Harry is the Queen of Kink, Lirry - Freeform, M/M, Porn With Plot, Possessive Harry, Rimming, Smut, X Factor flashbacks, Zourry - Freeform, Zourry threesome, larry break up, larry stylinson - Freeform, one direction - Freeform, zouis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-01 13:23:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2774594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixielove/pseuds/pixielove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has it tattooed on his hip. ‘Might as well’. He always thought it was a wonderful philosophy to live by. Might as well. Louis, on the other hand, didn’t care to explain what it is he and Harry had. His philosophy was ‘it is what it is.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Powerless

**Chapter One:**

**Powerless**

 

Louis was high on everything at the moment. High on life, high on the recent AMA award win at the Nokia Theatre in L.A a few days prior in which he and the lads had celebrated together at one of Harry and Louis’ secret L.A ‘hideouts’ or ‘The Hideout’ as they called it, located in Malibu, a swanky abode overlooking the harbour. They’d consumed way too many beers and vodka shots and _that_ night in question was a little fuzzy in Louis’ mind. He remembered Harry giving him a sloppy drunk-fuelled blowjob in their bedroom just when the sun was rising and the skies outside were pink and birds were chirping and the boys were passed out on their sofas in the lounge. Louis was high on Harry, that was for sure, for he was unequivocally and absolutely without a doubt gone for this boy, head over heels from the moment he smacked into Harry in the X-Factor toilets.

_‘Oops,’ Louis said, having been walking too close to the gangly contestant with the dimples as they attempted to walk through the doors to the loo at the same time and Louis ended up tripping over his shoes and feeling himself hurl forward. The boy with all the wavy brown hair and bright green eyes caught him by the arm and pulled him back._

_‘Hi,’ he said with a dimpled grin, continuing to hold onto Louis’ forearm when it was no longer necessary because Louis was okay, he hadn’t fallen or hurt himself – perhaps Curly should watch where he’s going? The boy’s grip on his arm loosened and gently moved down his arm, brushing Louis’ wrist and catching the rapid twitch of his pulse._

_“You’ve got a bit of a pigeon toe walk going on there, mate…” Louis commented, trying to ignore the tingling sensation that shot up his arm when Harry’s fingers brushed his wrist. The boy just smiled shyly and looked down, making way for the urinals. It was a little strange, a little awkward, to be honest, peeing there in silence together, listening to the gush of liquid hit the silver urinal catchment – especially because Louis sensed that this boy was no ordinary boy. He thought he remembered seeing him in the midst of all the other contestants grouped together and gaggling excitedly. Louis recalled people flocking to him, as if he was the only lamp in the dark attracting all the insects who gravitated to the source of the light. Perhaps he ought to ask for a photo later? No doubt he was destined to go far. With massive dimples like those and that face splitting smile, how could he not be destined for greatness? Lost in his thoughts, Louis didn’t even realise where he was aiming until Harry made a squealing noise._

_“Heeeeey…”_

_Louis snapped out of it and saw that he’d accidentally splashed Harry’s leg with his piss._

_“Oops…?” Louis tried, not knowing what else to say._

_Harry grinned stupidly, running a hand through his hair after zipping his fly back up, “Hi…” he echoed, beaming at Louis, leaving Louis feeling somewhat perplexed. He’d accidentally pissed on the kid and here he was looking at him like he’d just announced that Quidditch was real (however secret and underground) and that Harry could try out for a place on a team if he so desired._

From that moment on, of course, they had been HarryandLouis. They’d both fallen hard and fast. How many people jump into the arms of a boy they’ve just met when it’s been announced that they’re being thrown into a band together with three other boys? Louis couldn’t tell you why. It just was. They were electrifying. When they were together, there was a chemistry and an energy and a buzz like no other, and for Louis, it was a high higher than high, it was otherworldly and magical, leaving him breathless and powerless. It was pretty much common knowledge how fast the band took off and how quickly they became a super boy band, being constantly reminded by interviewers who couldn’t think of original questions and statements, reiterating notions like ‘you’ve hit number one in the States, something not even the Beatles achieved…’. Harry and Louis were practically magnets drawn to one another, constantly orbiting each other’s space, and if Harry was the earth, then Louis was definitely the sun, with Harry as the devoted blue orb circling the sunny rays radiating from Louis’ aura. They were surely unbreakable, unstoppable, uncontrollable. Of course, it wasn’t long until Zayn, Liam and Niall cottoned on to the _interesting_ dynamic of their friendship. It was Niall, actually, who brought it to their attention that the fans thought they were in a relationship. After that, Louis probably did distance himself from Harry somewhat. He wasn’t _gay_. He liked girls. He had Hannah. Louis knew he’d always been flamboyant, but…gay? Harry, on the other hand, didn’t seem so fazed by what was happening to them.

_There had been so many almost kisses. Harry had spent week after week gazing fondly at Louis on the staircase during the X Factor diaries, hardly aware of the fact that he was in a daydream, eyes pinned on Louis. On a few occasions Louis shot Harry a cheeky grin, waving his hands in front of his dazed expression, and Harry would snap out of it enough to focus, his expression unapologetic, eyes trailing to Louis’ mouth and back to his eyes again, making Louis’ heart thunder behind his ribcage._

_It should have been embarrassing that they almost, on several occasions, fell into one another’s orbit, lips inching dangerously close to the soft brush of a kiss, right in the presence of the boys. Liam told them several times to get on with it. “Jeez, I could cut the tension with a knife. Make out already, would you? But not in front of me,” he’d added, warily._

_Something always stopped them, though. And it was usually always Louis’ fault, because Louis, of course, was petrified, though he desperately tried to hide it, always keeping himself perfectly guarded. All that did, though, was befuddle a poor innocent and naive boy named Harry Styles. Louis would be the one to draw back, to snap them out of it, to look away, breath hitching, quickly doing or saying something random such as wrapping bandages around his eyes and crawling on the floor, howling like a wolf… anything to escape from the very real and perplexing attraction he felt towards Harry. These antics, though, only lasted so long. As Louis would soon learn, it was no easy task attempting to hide from Mr Styles, who seemed to read everyone like a book, and when it came to Louis, it was like he was telepathic or something._

_“Are you scared to kiss me?” he’d blurted out that evening when it was just them, alone, for once. They had taken a stroll to the lake after dinner at the X Factor house and taken some stale bread to feed the ducks. Seated on the bench seat together, squashed together despite the length of the seat, Louis felt his heart stop for a second. A second later all he could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ears. All he could feel was the screaming of his heart lodged in his throat, making it difficult to speak._

_“I… I’m not…you know… I don’t, like, bat for that team. Sorry. Do you? Not that I care or anything…” Louis said quickly, avoiding Harry’s intense stare by looking out toward the river listening with the specks of sunlight dancing on the gentle ripples, the sun dwindling away._

_“I dunno,” Harry answered, shrugging. “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t. I don’t really believe in labels, like. Labels are for clothes, not people, don’t you think?”_

_“Harold, it’s not exactly rocket science,” Louis sighed, biting his thumb nail. “Do you like girls? Have you had girlfriends?”_

_“Yeah? A few. Look, Louis, I’m just gonna come out and say it. I really, really like you. You’re fit. You’re hilarious. You’re nice. I like your smile. I feel so happy when you’re smiling at me like that. You’re so easy to talk to… I love talking to you. I love being around you. I just… I mean, if you wanted to just…see what it’s like… and if it’s wrong, I mean if it felt wrong, then we could just laugh and it would be okay wouldn’t it? Because at least we had tried it to find out that it wasn’t for us. But, like, I feel really drawn to you and… I dunno, would it hurt to try? We might as well…? It could be totally wrong and we might just laugh it off after and never take it further but what if it’s right? What if it’s so right?” Harry was babbling, and talking at a slow snail pace to boot, his raspy voice drawling every word at a leisurely pace._

_Louis found himself spellbound and enchanted and entranced by every cliché in the book. His resistance was becoming paralyzed. There was no way out, not when Harry’s honey sweet voice was talking to him like that. Not when he was looking at him like that, as if he was the most special thing in the universe that Harry had ever encountered. Louis didn’t think there was much that was special about him. Yeah, he was trying out for the X Factor and he had done a few plays at school like Grease, but he wasn’t overly confident when it came to singing. He felt like he was okay, but nothing special, and the drive to put himself out there was more to do with feeling like he was going nowhere in his life and wanting a way out, needing to embark on a new journey. Yeah, he was decent at football, but he would never be_ good enough _and when Louis really thought on it, he could only conclude that he was only ever average at everything. Harry, however, didn’t seem to think so. And it was this that made Louis feel both amazed and uneasy at the same time._

_Harry was rambling again, apparently taking Louis’ prolonged silence as rejection. “…we don’t have to, of course, I only meant if you had wanted to, but you don’t want to, that’s okay, that’s fine…these ducks seem ravenous, don’t they? Should have brought more brea-”_

_“Might as well,” Louis echoed, shutting Harry up mid-sentence with the burning heat of an unsure and uncertain and yet desperate kiss, feeling himself sink into the kiss that morphed from surprise and melted into a sensation that was so nice, so right, so soft, so warm. Louis’ heart fluttered, the kiss deepening, Harry’s hand cupping Louis’ neck as he drew him closer. Moments later he had pulled Louis onto his lap, embracing him in a hug but keeping the kisses in-tact and it was something undeniably loving and tender. Eyes closed, lips working together, the last specks of sunlight faded away as the sun fell behind the horizon._

This love story had a catch. Being in One Direction, a band that had become a franchise taking over the world, came with many obligations. Louis had never dreamed he’d be squashed under the iron heel of a satanic mill named Modest! but that had fast become his reality. Once they’d learned about HarryandLouis, they had been quick to try and unsuccessfully stamp it out of them, warning them that these feelings were “temporary” and that the bands success was more important than a “fleeting crush”. Once the powers at bee realised come 2012 that ‘Larry Stylinson’ was a very real thing that wasn’t about to disappear just because they didn’t approve, a compromise was sought. It wasn’t, however, much of a compromise but more of an ugly ultimatum. And so, Eleanor Calder had been brought in and Harry had been set up with the public stunt that was ‘Haylor’. Which ‘Haylor’ hadn’t lasted very long, the narrative that Louis was in a committed relationship with Eleanor continued. Management and PR played the notion that Harry was a Casanova, bedding a different woman every other night, while the most flamboyant boy in the band was, in fact, straight – and that was obvious, because he was regularly photographed with Calder, sometimes even (awkwardly) holding her hand. 2013 was an especially difficult year for Harry and Louis, embarking on their world tour, making a concert movie, and generally living a schedule, alongside the other boys, that went by like one blur. Louis could never remember one day from the next, it all clouded together, and all the while, he was being made to hide who he was and pretend he was straight for the fan girls. They had been schooled multiple times on it. Apparently coming out would ruin the band as the majority of their fan base was female, that was supposed to mean that these females only liked the band for the fact that it allowed them to fantasise about one day snagging one of the boys and living the dream. Louis knew it was ridiculous. The majority of their fan base supported ‘Larry Stylinson’, but try telling that to PR – who turned around and said “even if 70% of the fan base support it, Louis, that leaves thirty percent who don’t. Thirty per cent is a lot of fans to lose when you take into account sales stats. That’s a portion of the payroll who could lose their jobs, you realise.’ Okay then, no pressure. To cut a very long and very ugly story short, Modest! had succeeded in 2013 in driving a wedge between Harry and Louis who acted as if the other was invisible in the room. They weren’t even allowed to sit together in interviews. Harry had upped and moved to L.A and declared that they needed to go on a ‘break’, leaving Louis alone in their London home. Naturally, it hadn’t lasted long. The earth wasn’t much without the sun, after all.

*****

It was astonishing, Louis mused, how much could change in a mere twenty-four hours, how far apart two magnets could stray from one another. It was 2014 and they’d just won three AMA’s and everything was finally going right, especially for Harry and Louis, who were on top of the world, even sitting next to each other in interviews again, almost a shadow of their 2011/12 selves. Fans had tagged the month ‘no chill November’. Indeed, more good things had happened in one month than had occurred through all of 2013. Like the fast and unforgiving pace of their schedules – the constant jetlag and hotel rooms blurring together, their relationship, in turn, echoed the pace, like a chaotic rollercoaster. Louis should have realised. The higher you go, the further you fall.

Louis was sat alone in the Malibu hideout, overlooking the harbour from the veranda deck. A few nights prior they had all been partying it up. Harry had given him that drunk fuelled blowie. They’d collapsed into lazy kisses and fallen asleep in one another’s embrace and woken up at noon the next day. Harry had made Louis and the boys who were all as hung over as he was pancakes covered in maple syrup and whipped cream. They’d spent the day laughing it up and enjoying their free time before the week of gruelling promo and interviews that was booked in for them. Louis was in a state of shock, similar to how one would respond if they’d learnt a beloved person had just died. First comes shock, and then denial. Louis wasn’t even at denial yet, he still couldn’t believe that his dimpled sunflower beloved by everyone from Chris Martin to the old codgers of Rolling Stones magazine had actually _broken up_ with him. Staring out into space as he sat there on the steps of the deck, sand buried in the golden sand, Louis took a sip of his beer, mind wheeling back to the night before.

**

Harry was snoring in bed beside him. He was, of course, endearingly so, the little spoon. His long giraffe limbs were curled up as small as he could make them, his spine curved, placing himself in the foetal position with his back to Louis and Louis was curled to Harry from behind, the big spoon, his arms wrapped around Harry’s bare waist. They were both clad only in briefs, legs tangled together.

The waves were lapping the shore rather violently, the orb of the moon hanging like a giant pearl above the black tides as Louis lay awake, staring at the analogue clock on Harry’s bedside table. It read 3:30AM. His mind was too active and closing his eyes and trying to will sleep upon himself was fruitless, so Louis gently slipped out of bed, loosening his hold on Harry, careful not to wake him. Harry made a small whimpering noise and Louis froze, watching as Harry rolled onto his stomach and continued snoring a moment later. Relaxing, Louis grabbed his iPhone and tipped out of the bedroom, plonking himself on the sofa, he opened up his Twitter and scrolled through some of the messages that brought a smile to his face. It wasn’t long, of course, before he realised that Management had been fiddling with his account again when he realised that the influx of messages weren’t all positive. Stomach tying into knots, he went to his profile, heart racing.

_‘Just had dinner at The Ivy with Eleanor ! Great service too! Will definitely be back soon !’_

Louis stared at the tweet. It was inane, yes, but it wasn’t destructive and alienating and anything like the stunts they’d pulled in the past, such as with the Apple logo fiasco. Louis, however, must have missed it at first glance because sleepiness was actually overcoming him. A moment later he realised the obvious as the words on the screen pierced his eyes and his heart.

_‘@mylarents give it up already! The dagger has nothing the fuck to do with anything ! Harry and I don’t get ‘matching’ tattoos. Tattoos don’t always have to mean something, give it a fucking rest! #delusional_

Louis felt like he was falling. He was Alice, falling, falling, falling into the centre of the earth. Would he wake up soon? Surely this wasn’t actually happening. The fans had already put up with so many alienating insults from ‘@Louis’ and this… this would be the final straw. Louis stared sadly at the dagger on his arm, remembering why they’d done this in the first place. Tattooing their story in matching nautical symbols was like Morse code for a love they weren’t allowed to reveal. It was their only freedom. The feedback from the fans was everything Louis expected it to be. Some responses were outraged, many upset, dozens furious, many were in fact cruel, but Louis didn’t blame them. They were hurt and confused and just like Louis, they were on the receiving end of a very powerful and hideous institutional discourse that declared that not being straight was abnormal and that Louis was definitely, in fact, straight. Louis was a highly strung fuse about to blow. White hot anger seized his veins and he swiftly deleted the tweet and threw the phone against the wall followed by a choked sob, panicked tears leaking uncontrollably from his eyes as he buried his face in his hands and cried. Louis cried until he could cry no more. The stress and panic was still surging through him and Louis needed relief. He’d already smoked his way through half a packet but that just wasn’t cutting it. The sun was rising, the sky outside slowly getting lighter. Louis rummaged through his bag looking for his tin of joints and a lighter and lit up, inhaling deeply and slumping against the sofa, shivering as he realised how cold he had been, sat up all night in nothing but his briefs. Harry was still apparently passed out in bed. Louis was nearly at the end of the joint, and his mind was whirling in paranoia, his thoughts turning uglier by the second.

 _‘There has to be a reason Modest! keep pushing this fucking straight imagine and acting like what I am…what we are…is something to be ashamed of. Should I be ashamed? That’s what they’re telling me, isn’t it?’_ a voice in Louis’ head asked him.

An emotional, highly strung, sleep deprived and high Louis was not a good combination. He reflected on how very different he and Harry were. Where Harry embraced who and what he was, Louis still struggled with accepting himself. Back during the X Factor days, he had been the one to draw back, to stall the inevitable. Here Harry was, a butterfly, a fairy, having come a long way from the boy who used to care what people thought on Twitter. Louis wished he had the courage to declare on tape that gender wasn’t that important. Louis couldn’t help wondering why Harry was outing himself left right and centre while all Louis had done was subtly reveal via shirts and tattoos… and he was suddenly getting all the backlash? Not that Louis would wish it upon Harry, he just didn’t understand why Louis alone was the one to suffer all the consequences. Why did Louis have to be the fall guy, the one who was made to look like a homophobic jerk? Reaching for a fresh joint, Louis lit up with shaky fingers, ignoring the sudden hunger pangs rumbling in his stomach, he inhaled, stiffened shoulders relaxing as he sank back against the sofa. Louis’ mind drifted back to the old days, the simple days, fooling around with Harry in the X Factor house. He remembered he’d still been with Hannah at the time. Kissing Harry at the lake that evening, he had technically cheated on her, and still confused by his feelings, hadn’t broken it off with her right away, which naturally upset Harry. ‘ _Do you love her or do you love me? I’m not a play thing, you know. I’m not a little something on the side you get to fool around with. You have to break up with her,’_ a sixteen year old Harry had demanded. Louis had felt torn because he had genuinely loved Hannah – until he’d met Harry, who’d turned his world upside down. Louis hadn’t accepted he wasn’t straight until he had fallen for Harry. At first he tried to pretend that he was straight and that Harry was just the exception to the rule. The pretence only lasted so long. Louis questioned Harry a lot about it, even though Harry was wilfully stubborn, always saying the same old ‘Labels don’t matter, Lou. It is what it is.’

_“You’re bi? You’re bi, Harry, because you don’t care about gender and labels and shit. You can have attraction to males and females. I had Hannah. I have you. I guess I’m bi,” Louis had decided that evening after a successful X Factor performance._

_Harry sighed. “Bi is a label. Call it what you want. If I love someone, what gender they happen to be doesn’t factor into it. Hearts not parts, you know? Who cares what equipment you have? Why do you care so much about it anyway?”_

_“Well that’s nice for you Harold but I think…like…for me personally… even though I’ve had girlfriends, even though I had Hannah… and one would think that would make me bi… I just don’t think I am. I think I only fancy guys. I think I’m… gay.”_

_“Okay, Boo, so what? You’re gay and I’m an Aquarius. Booooring. Let’s prank call Stan.”_

Louis’ mind was whirling with paranoia and denial and most likely the weed in this state of mind was a very bad idea. He heard a thump outside in the corridor and leapt from the sofa, certain that someone was coming to take him away and hook him up to a lie detector on national television. Breaking into a cold sweat, Louis began pacing, smoking the last of his joint and inhaling deeply before stubbing it out in his ashtray on the coffee table. Maybe he had been wrong. He’d loved Hannah, in his own way. He had kissed her like he’d meant it on several occasions. Surely then he was bi! Granted, everything would be easier for him and Harry if he wasn’t gay, he realised. It all suddenly made sense, and Louis felt the weight of the revelation hit him in the gut. The only reason they didn’t treat Harry like this and send homophobic tweets from his account was because Harry conformed to no labels. He was everyone’s guy, a blank space that anyone, whether they were your nana, your gay best friend, your girlfriend – anyone could imagine Harry as they thought he was, imagine him as they wanted him to be. Louis had been so very fixed as the flamboyant scarf wearing kid in bright red pants and limp wrists – and Modest had stamped it out of him, transforming him into a chain smoking and depressed young man who mostly dressed in black, as if he were mourning. It was so simple, Louis realised. He’d have to find Hannah Walker and prove that he could choose not to be gay – he could be a blank space as well. Louis picked up his phone from the floor and scrolled through the contacts.

 _‘Hey Hannah, it’s Lou here. Long time no chat!! Wanna meet up? It would be good to catch up!’_ Louis wrote and then sent the message without delay. A moment later his phone was ringing and her icon was lighting up.

“Hannah?” he answered.

“Louis Tomlinson…”

“That’s me.”

“Why are you texting me?”

“I told you why! I thought it would be nice to catch up? It’s been so long…”

“Well, of course it’s been so long. We broke up and you became a superstar. Is something wrong? It seems a bit strange that you’re contacting me out of the blue is all…”

“I miss us,” Louis blurted out without thinking. “I miss the way things were, how simple everything was… can I…can I see you? I just wanna… I just need to-”

“Aren’t you with Harry Styles? I thought you two…” she trailed off, curiosity aflame in her voice.

“No!” Louis said sharply, “you shouldn’t believe rumours. Thought you were smarter than that. I’m with Eleanor.”

“And you think I condone cheating, do you? I’m not a play-thing, Louis,” Hannah responded, and Louis felt his mouth go dry, remembering Harry’s words echo through his mind, _‘Do you love her or do you love me? I’m not a play-thing, you know.’_

“I thought you knew me better than that. I don’t mean to shag you and be off on my merry way, love. I just wanted to see you, is all. I’m sorry I contacted you. I’m sorry, I’ll just-”

“Louis, wait. It’s okay. You can visit, if it’s so important… are you in the States at the minute? When are you next back in Donny?”

“I’ll book a flight now, first flight I can find…” Louis said, pulling out his laptop. “It’ll be nice to see the girls and Mum and little Ernie and Doris while I’m there. I just need to get away, you know? Things are crazy right now,” Louis said, searching for flights and finding that one was leaving at three thirty in the afternoon. He booked and paid for his flight and told Hannah his arrival time, when Harry clad in his briefs walked into the lounge, stretching and yawning, long princely hair all askew.

“I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later,” Louis said quickly.

“Okay, see you later Louis.”

“Bye, love.”

“Morning Boo! Up early were you?” Harry asked, leaning over to kiss Louis who quickly snapped his laptop shut and ducked, missing Harry’s lips. Harry stood back and frowned, rubbing his eyes and waking up, he took everything in, from Louis who was sitting there with blood-shot eyes, to the tin of joints lying on the coffee table.

“Louis?” was all Harry said, voice deep as usual and more gravelly, his morning voice, rough and raspy.

“What is it?” Louis groaned, rubbing his temples.

“Have you been up all night getting high?” Harry asked disapprovingly.

“So what if I was?”

“Well, you’re not exactly having a party here alone all night, are you? I worry about your frame of mind, sitting here along, getting high. It’d be okay if Z was here and you were being clowns but you don’t look okay? Is everything okay?”

“Oh, stop pretending like you give a shit,” Louis snarled, observing with satisfaction the wounded look on Harry’s face.

“Louis, what’s the matter?”

“I’d love to stay and chit chat, but I’ve gotta pack my bags! Off to Donny!” Louis pretended to chirp, jumping to his feet and making for their bedroom, finding his suitcase under the bed.

“Can I come?”

“Best if you don’t.”

“Did I do something wrong, then, did I?” Harry asked in a small voice.

Louis sighed as he threw random articles of clothing into his suitcase and next chucked in his toiletries and razors. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s never you. You’re fucking perfect. World loves you, didn’t you know?” Louis huffed, slamming his suitcase shut and violently zipping it up.

“Please just talk to me, just tell me what happened Lou, we can work through anything, you know that-”

“I’m going home to visit my family and then I’m going to see Hannah!” Louis said loudly, wanting to hurt Harry, wanting him to be the one to retreat, and he knew why. He was a coward. He’d never break up with Harry. No, he’d push Harry and push Harry to the edge, to the end of his rope, manipulate Harry into breaking up with him so that he couldn’t be to blame. How could he be the one to blame if Harry left him first?

“Hannah? Hannah Walker?” Harry asked hoarsely.

“That’d be the one.”

“W-Why? What for? When are you coming back?”

“I’m doing it for us, Harry. For us, and the band. It’ll be easier this way. I’ll be back when I’ll be back,” he answered elusively, daring to meet Harry’s eyes now. Harry was crying, tears leaking freely from his eyes, but he was also angry, hands curled into fists at his side, the veins in his neck straining, nostrils flaring.

“Is that it, then? Are you breaking up with me?” Harry asked with a frightening smile, a Joker smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Are you leaving me for Hannah?” he asked, coming right up to Louis’ face and towering over him, walking him back against the dressing table until Louis was pressed against the sharp edges of the mirror.

“N-No, I’m not, I’m just…I need to be alone…for a while.”

“Alone with Hannah?” Harry queried, whispering in Louis’ ear, hand gripping Louis’ bicep. “Is this because, you are “in fact straight”, Tommo? Is this what this is? I know you deleted the tweet but the fans already did screenshot and saved it to Tumblr, it’s all over my dash… I saw what they wrote. I know why you’re upset. Just… don’t take it out on me, baby. Stay,” Harry pleaded, burying his face in the crook of Louis’ neck.

“Harry, you don’t unders-” Louis was saying, when Harry suddenly shut him up with a violent kiss, all of his anger and confusion surging from his veins into Louis’ mouth. Louis whimpered into the kiss, struggling against the mirror and gripping onto Harry’s mane of hair, pulling and tugging for support when Harry’s hips started grinding against his, hardening cocks bumping together behind briefs, the friction painful and delicious.

“Did you think you’d go back to her and see if you can get it up for her?” Harry whispered roughly in his ear, sending the tingles shivering down Louis’ spine. Harry’s hips continued to stagger against Louis as he attacked his neck with purple bites, sucking the skin just before his ear. Louis started struggling and trying to get away. Harry pinned Louis’ wrists to the mirror, holding them there in place, mouths meeting in a desperate and filthy kiss, Harry moaning against Louis’ tongue. “Do you need reminding,” Harry asked, kiss breaking, his fingers gripping the waistband of Louis’ briefs and impatiently pulling them down, leaving them at his knees, “that this cock belongs to me?” Harry asked, gripping the fattened dick in his hand and pumping the length up and down, sinking to his knees and watching as Louis’ lips parted, his back slumping against the mirror. “So pretty like this, Lou. So pretty and desperate for Daddy,” Harry whispered, smirking when Louis whimpered, biting his lower lip and watching Harry with hooded eyes, pupils blown. Dunking his head, Harry gave a few kitten licks to the tip of his dick. Louis gasped, reaching for Harry’s head and gripping a handful of his hair, little injured sounding whimpers escaping his mouth as Harry slowly wrapped his lips around the head and impaled Louis’ dick in his mouth, taking it as far as it would go until the head was brushing the back of his throat, causing him to gag around him. Louis cried out, hips bucking. Harry reached up and held a hand to Louis’ hip, trying to steady him as he slipped Louis out and gasped for breath before going down on him again, head bobbing quickly now on his dick, practically drooling all over his cock as Louis’ hips jerked shallowly, fucking into Harry’s sinful mouth. Louis was entranced by the pink lips, plump and swollen from all the kisses, his mouth seeming to throb, engulfing Louis’ dick like it was his profession. Harry closed his eyes and moaned against Louis’ cock, always enjoying giving pleasure as much, if not more, than receiving. His own dick was throbbing and Louis was vaguely aware of the fact that Harry was jerking himself off while sucking Louis off. The constant moaning of Harry’s mouth vibrated against Louis’ dick, making him cry out, and soon enough he was abusing Harry’s mouth and those obscene lips, fucking into his mouth. Harry slipped off his cock with a pop, his lips wet with saliva and Louis pre come. Louis groaned at the sight of him looking so wrecked, his cheeks flushed with desire and his eyes glassy and blown. “Does it feel good, baby? Would Hannah let you fuck her _throat_? Would it be a chore, or would she enjoy it, moaning around your dick?” Harry wondered, grinning wickedly at Louis before slipping Louis’ aching and throbbing cock back into his mouth, letting it slide down his throat, his hand working on his own dick faster and faster as he listened to Louis’ tortured sounding pleas and whimpers and a second later Louis was shouting out in a wrecked and raspy voice, coming down Harry’s throat and pulling out quickly, the remainder of his come hitting Harry’s filthy beautiful mouth and cheeks, ropes of the white liquid dripping down Harry’s face. Louis’s heart was thundering madly and he was trying to catch his breath as if he’d run a mile while Harry sat on his knees, licking the come off his lips and wiping the rest off his face.

Louis watched as Harry’s hand slackened on his big dick that was throbbing and dripping with pre come. Harry was still in his briefs, not even bothering to remove them, his cock pulled out and spilling the pre come onto the black material. Louis stared at his cock, licking his lips and feeling his stomach tighten with a fresh wave of heat spilling through his gut, the pulse in his navel racing again. Harry rose to his feet, shrugging his briefs down his thighs a bit and grabbing Louis’ he slammed him against the dresser so that his front was pressing against the mirror, his back to Harry. Without speaking, Harry opened the drawer of the dressing table where socks were kept – and a fluffy set of handcuffs. Louis’ cock was half hard already again, as Harry grabbed his wrists and handcuffed them together, hooking them against the wooden gap between the mirrors. Reaching for the flavoured Raspberry lube in the second drawer, Harry uncapped it and opened Louis up, squeezing the contents in. Sinking to his knees again, Harry gently lapped his hole, tasting the flavoured raspberry substance and wiggling his tongue in, fucking into Louis who was an incoherent mess, whining and whimpering, gripping onto the mirror with his handcuffed hands for dear life, tears of pleasure leaking from the corner of his eyes, his gasps fogging up the mirror. Pleased by these reactions and smirking, Harry squeezed more lube into Louis’ fluttering hole, his tongue sloshing in and out rapidly, eating Louis out and moaning as he did it, enjoying every second. Harry was about to bust a nut, however, and could easily come all over himself with his tongue in Louis’ hole so a second later, he had risen to his feet, nudging the tip of his cock into Louis’ hole and slowly pushing. Louis gasped, crying out as Harry waited, letting Louis adjust, gently stroking the underside of Louis’ forearm.

“M-Move,” Louis instructed. Harry started thrusting, biting into Louis’ neck and littering it with more purple bites. Louis moaned, feeling Harry stab his prostate, hitting it over and over again, feeling his hot and heavy breath against his neck, his raspy groans in his ear. Louis loved the sting, the burn, the heat. He could stay and burn it all day.

‘ _I’ve got no control, no control, powerless, and I don’t care it’s obvious, I just can’t get enough of you.’_

Harry’s hand crept around his navel and grabbed his now leaking cock, feeling the electrifying crescendo creeping closer, his own hips slamming against Louis at an unforgiving pace, Louis’ ass jiggling against the impact, Harry jerking Louis quickly and continuing to hit his prostate in a way that made Louis feel like he could melt into the pleasure and happily die this way. Harry bit into his neck, muffling his moans and coming into Louis’ hole, the come dripping down his thighs and a moment later Louis was releasing into Harry’s fist, strips of come painting the mirror. Harry slumped against Louis’ back and pulled out, causing Louis to hiss, his backside throbbing a little. Harry pulled his briefs up, tucking his dick away and ran a hand through his messy disarray of hair. Louis, still handcuffed to the mirror, caught Harry’s eyes in the reflection, watching him watch him.

“Seeing as I’m detained, I’d appreciate a hand…” he said dryly. Harry came up behind him and pulled his briefs up, smirking at Louis as he moved away and sat on the edge of the bed.

“You know what I meant. Uncuff me.”

“I don’t know, Lou. You look good like that. And besides, this way, you can’t run away to Hannah…”

“I’m not ‘running away’ to her. I’m just visiting an old friend. Jesus. Uncuff me now, Styles, or I swear, I swear I’ll never let you fuck me again. I’ll never even give you a blowie.”

“Well that’s a shame, I’d miss your mouth and your arse, but you know…I could always bring Liam over to my side. Maybe have a go with Zayn while I’m at it.”

“In your dreams,” Louis said, restlessly tapping the metal of the cuffs against the mirror. “Seriously, I’m not your victim and this is no Stockholm syndrome, despite how much you clearly want it to be, you freak.”

“Calm your tits, I’ll release you, as I am so very benevolent,” Harry murmoured, pressing himself against Louis and releasing him, slipping the fluffy handcuffs back in the drawer. There was a long silence as they stared at one another, and Louis felt the rare heat of a blush taint his cheeks. He looked away for something to distract himself with and found the rest of his cigarettes on the bedside table. He yanked a smoke, lit up and started puffing his way through it, earning a glare from Harry.

“I wish you’d give up that filthy habit,” he commented, sneakily unpacking the things in Louis’ suitcase.

“What’s it to you?” Louis retorted.

“It’s your mouth I have to kiss and I don’t like the taste of tobacco.”

“Well, don’t kiss me then. Thought you said you were gonna snag Liam and have a go with Zayn. Oh, but of course, they smoke too. Seems to me you have a thing for men who smoke?”

“Patrick Dempsey’s a dreamboat and I don’t think he smokes…” Harry argued, when Louis turned around, and saw what Harry was doing, taking items out of his suitcase. He walked up to Harry’s face and deliberately blew smoke in his face, watching with satisfaction as Harry screwed his face up and coughed.

“I never said I wasn’t still going,” Louis drawled, putting the items back in his bag.

“You’re joking,” Harry answered, voice hollow.

“No, I’m not fucking joking. I need time alone, what part of that don’t you get?”

“I feel like you’re punishing me and pushing me away!”

“Stop being so sensitive. And arrogant. This isn’t even about you.”

“I’m not gonna keep doing this. I’m not going to be the one always sitting at home, pining, waiting for you to come back. You know what? _I’m_ leaving. Call the trip off, otherwise I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Leaving what, exactly? Leaving me?” Louis laughed.

“Yeah, you heard right,” Harry growled, folding his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at Louis. “You think I’m seriously gonna sit here and wait for you, knowing that you’re in Doncaster trying to work out ‘unresolved’ feelings with her? What, you want me to pack your bags for you, send you off with a kiss, so that you can go to her and fuck her while I wait for you here to come home? Would you like me to collect you from the airport when you’re done fucking her? Would you like me to make tacos for dinner when you’re back?” Harry asked.

“You’re being ridiculous and possessive as usual. I am going to Doncaster and like I told you, I’ll be back when I’ll be back. Don’t wait up. Who even said anything about _fucking_ her? I just want to talk to her, not that it’s any of your fucking business, you giant git,” Louis said, zipping his suitcase back up again.

Without another word, Harry reached for his carry-bag from the closet and threw items of clothing in it, placed his laptop and charger in and quickly pulled some black skinny jeans on, threw on a shirt and slipped on his boots.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Louis drawled, perplexed.

“Away from you. And just so you know, we’re done. I’m done with this shit, Louis. Don’t try and contact me.”

“What?!” Louis cried, watching as Harry turned around and stormed away. Louis ran to catch up with him, baffled as he marched out the door and into the hallway. Louis’s heart fell and broke into a thousand unfound pieces as Harry Styles walked away from him, his boots tapping against the lino floors. “Harry, wait, wait just a second,” Louis called, running up to him and reaching for his hand, catching his wrist, fingers wrapping around the anchor tattoo.

“It’s simple, Lou. I’ll stay if you stay. Run away from me again and we’re done,” Harry said, and waited for Louis to respond. Louis opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, another long silence following. Harry took a deep breath in and exhaled, looking broken and battered as he stormed away around the corner and out of sight.


	2. Escape from this City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds himself in hospital after a car crash. Louis is on the other side of the world with his ex-girlfriend, and Liam is the middle-man.

**Chapter Two:**

**Escape from this City**

Harry hadn’t packed much – just what he’d needed. With no plan in mind and feeling distressed and helpless, Harry had called the first person he could think of when he felt that he was in a state of crisis. He’d half expected Louis to chase him down into the basement car park as he sat himself in his E-Type red Jaguar convertible, expecting the call he was making to divert to voicemail.

“Hazza? Jesus, what time do you call this?” Liam answered, sounding like he'd just woken up.

“Liam? I need… I… uh…would it be alright if I came to stay…for…just for a bit?” Harry asked, holding back the tears as he revved the car to life and pulled out of the basement, merging into the traffic. He couldn’t hold back though. His eyes were stinging and a second later tears were spilling down his cheeks. Sniffing, he placed his phone on the phone stand and put Liam on speaker.

“Course you can. Everything all right? Where’s Lou?”

“Still at ours. Might have to sell the batch…” Harry began, feeling his throat close over as he wiped his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve, making way for Liam’s Beverly Hills apartment. With all the promo and work they had scheduled in the area, the boys were living between their apartments or hotels, depending on the locations they were being sent to. The trip would take Harry  a little under an hour. Something  about taking a road-trip was comforting to Harry. If only for a little while, it gave him a distraction, with nothing but the highway ahead and the wind blowing through his hair as he tried to forget everything. Forget the world. Forget Louis, forget the sunshine, forget the harbour, the ocean, forget all the nautical miles between them, growing further and further by the second. Forget it all.

“Harry…” Liam said slowly, “why would you be selling it? You two love The Hideout.”

“I…I b-broke up with him, Liam. H-He gave me no choice,” Harry explained, voice breaking.

“You broke up with him?!” Liam exclaimed, and a long silence followed, as the words sank in and Harry realised that there really was no going back. Louis had made the choice for Harry – he’d chosen the path of pretence, pretending to be someone he wasn’t to please management, to please the fans. He’d chosen Hannah over Harry.

“When you say you ‘broke up with him’, you mean, you “broke up with him”, like, you had a fight, you need space, and you’ll be back together before the week is over, right? Because you and Louis have “broken up” more times than I can count…”

“This time it’s for good, Li. I’ll explain everything when I get to yours. I’ll be there after seven, I’m driving…”

“Are you sure you should be driving in this state?” Liam asked carefully.

“I wanted to drive. It’s relaxing, you know? See you later, then…”

“Bye, Haz. See you in a bit, and don’t-” Liam was saying, but whatever he was trying to say was breaking up and Harry was losing reception as he drove around a steep and twisty mountain route. Harry disconnected the call and drove around the rural terrain, helpless tears spilling down his face again and landing on the steering wheel as he drove downhill now and onto flat road. Turning the radio on, Harry listened to the classic hits station, turning the music up louder and finding his vision blurry from the tears. Harry sniffed, trying to rapidly blink the tears away and turning the volume up louder, trying to block out all the persistent memories that kept trying to resurface. It felt like something inside him was missing, like half of his heart had been sliced in half. His mind was taking him back to the X Factor days. He was sixteen again, sitting on the sofa with the other boys, Louis practically in his lap… laughing hysterically at Louis’ antics as the older boy pulled them all off the sofa with him, Harry landing on top of him with a thud and giggling. In his memories, they were next on the foot of the stairs of the X Factor stage. Louis was wearing those black rimmed glasses, and Harry, as usual, was gazing fondly at the ray of sunshine that was Louis. Their eyes met for what felt like several sunsets but in reality it had to have only been a fleeting moment in time and Harry watched as Louis seemed to lose his breath, choking around nothing, and quickly looking away. And all the while, the song on the radio seemed to taunt Harry.

_‘And all the roads we have to walk are winding / And all the lights that lead us there are blinding / There are many things that I would like to say to you / But I don’t know how / Because maybe / You’re gonna be the one that saves me / And after all / You’re my Wonderwall…’_

Harry pushed down on the accelerator harder, enjoying the comforting breeze brush his skin, moving through his hair, nothing but the open road ahead, the rocky Californian mountains on either side of him as he sped through the terrain, a nagging lyric spinning circles in his mind…

_‘Who’s gonna be the last one to drive away? / Forgetting every single promise we ever made?’_

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw his phone lighting up with messages. Was it Louis, desperately messaging him? Harry had told him not to contact him with good reason. He was an emotional sponge, and for that reason, he needed to switch off, to avoid all contact. Several minutes later, however, still en route along the twisty mountainous rural terrain, curiosity got the better of him. He reached for the phone, his eyes sticky and wet, and saw that there were seven messages in his inbox from Louis. Harry’s heart plunged into his stomach. He’d only taken his eyes off the road for a split second, when he felt himself being launched forward, his seatbelt cutting into his neck from the impact. All he could hear was the screeching of his tyres, the crumpling of the red hood of his Jaguar, and the sound of his windscreen shattering and raining upon him as his chest smacked into the steering wheel, sending the airbag popping out to cushion the impact. A van ahead had crashed into him, sending him and Harry flying into the rocky verge, leaving Harry with his arm through the broken windscreen, slumped against the steering wheel, unconscious.

**

 

Harry drifted in and out of consciousness. Groaning and peeling his eyes open, Harry awoke to find himself no longer squashed by the wreckage, but tucked into a hospital bed with IV drips bandaged to the veins of his wrist. His right arm was aching, the bones throbbing. When he looked down, he noticed it was in a cast and placed in a sling, held up and wrapped around his neck.

“Finally awake, Haz?” a familiar and worried voice asked. Harry found the warm brown eyes of Liam, hovering over his bedside.

“W-What happened?” Harry croaked, but he knew what had happened. He still remembered the sheer force of it, the burn of the seatbelt cutting into his neck, bruising him, the agony of his bone breaking in half as his arm smashed through the windscreen, the shock and pain of it making him black out.

“I told you not to drive in that state!” Liam reprimanded, sighing. “You were in no fit state to be driving, not all upset about Lou and everything! You had a head on, didn’t you? Broke your arm, mate. A complete break. You’re a bit cut up as well. Nasty bruise on your neck from the seatbelt. The boys are on the way, I alerted them right away, and your mum, Gemma and Des will be here – they took the first flight they could get,” Liam was explaining, but Harry felt a sudden panic rise through his veins at the thought of Louis arriving here to see him.

“Liam…I appreciate you letting everyone know, but…you didn’t…you didn’t tell _him_ , did you?” Harry whispered, unable to say his name out loud.

“Lou? I texted him and said there was something important he needed to know, but he’s still on his flight over to Doncaster. Don’t give me that look, Haz, he’d kill me if I keep him out of the loop.You could have died, Haz,” Liam said seriously when Harry glared at him.

“NO! I don’t want him here! Don’t bother telling him anything!”

“Harry…” Liam said, face falling. “I know you’re going through some things, but do you think this changes the way he feels about you? Switch places for a second! If you were in Lou’s shoes, and Louis was sitting in a hospital bed having just been in a car crash, wouldn’t you want to know – wouldn’t you want to see him?”

“I could never be in his shoes, Liam, because I’d never choose some ex over him, would I? He’d never be in my place. He’d never have been where I was, driving to yours, crying over someone who doesn’t even care! He doesn’t CARE!” Harry shouted, causing a stern looking nurse with brown hair tied up into a bun to race into his ward.

“Mr Styles, is everything quite all right? Do I need to see your guest out?” she asked curtly.

“I…I’m sorry, I’m sorry, no. It’s fine. Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Very well. If I hear any more arguments, I will have to ask Mr Payne to leave,” she warned, before turning on her heel and disappearing.

“So he...he’s going there after all…?” Harry asked once the nurse had left and Liam sat himself down in the chair beside Harry’s bed.

“Yeah…? Harry, tell me what’s going on? Is everything okay with his family? He wouldn’t even tell me why he was there all of a sudden, considering we have so much promo in L.A for the next month…”

Harry, glad for a reason for someone to see why he had to do what he did, told Liam everything, explaining how he’d woken up at six in the morning to find Louis not in bed beside him, how he’d stayed in bed for a while scrolling through his Tumblr, finding the tweet the fans had saved. He’d gone to Twitter next, and it was of course deleted by that stage. Harry explained the argument over Louis packing his bags for Doncaster to visit Hannah (with Harry sparing Liam the details of what happened in-between), and how Harry had given Louis a choice to make.

“Let me get this straight… Lou told you he was going to Doncaster to bone his ex?!” Liam asked, confused.

“No! I mean, maybe? He gave me this impression that he wanted to see if he… if he still had feelings for her or something, so, like, he wanted to go there and…  I don’t know, test the waters? Maybe he wants to see if there’s a spark there or something. I was furious, you know, and he basically told me I was overreacting and that he wasn’t going there to fuck her, he just wanted to ‘talk’ to her.”

“Harry, listen, maybe he did only intend to talk to her. I mean, if you think about it, you’re the first bloke he’s been with since her, right? Our team are always picking him apart about it and we all know they leave you alone-”

“Liam,” Harry said, closing his eyes and exhaling slowly from his nose, needing patience not to lose his temper and have the nurse reappear, “he’s the first and only boyfriend I’ve ever had too. And please, just… never…never say that again, that they leave me alone, because that’s not true. They might not fuck with my accounts the way they do to his, but you think me being set up with Taylor and then Kendall are examples of being left alone by them?”

“It was the wrong choice of words. The fact is, Harry, they haven’t been fair to either of you. You were in this together. I just think it’s tragic, really, if you let them win. I miss sassy Hazza who takes his beards to gay clubs and doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks…”

“I just wish for the day, Li, where I don’t have to be set up on dates to appease them, and then the way they drag Eleanor through this… you realise, Jay adores her, right? Jay thinks she’s wonder- wonderful,” Harry said, voice breaking again. Harry was crying again. He felt so foolish, so insecure and vulnerable, but Liam didn’t mind at all, leaning over and carefully avoiding Harry’s bung arm, he gently cupped the side of his face and squeezed his left hand.

“I know, I know…” Liam said, stroking his hair now. Harry, still paralyzed and shell-shocked by everything, from the ultimate choice Louis had made, the break up, and now the car accident, continued to cry while Liam held onto him tightly. “Budge over, Barry,” he said warmly, moving to get in beside him. Harry scooted over, making room for Liam as he got in beside Harry and held onto his trembling shoulders.

“Liam?” Harry asked, accepting the tissues Liam had offered and wiping his eyes and blowing his nose into the tissue before discarding it into the bin beside his bed, “did he… did he respond when you said there was something important to tell him?”

Liam pulled his phone from the pocket of his jeans and re-opened the message, reading it out loud to Harry, “‘I know what you’re going to say and don’t bother. Go on then and tell the boys, Harry dumped me. I’m on a flight to Donny. I dunno when I’ll be back. Probably won’t be back for the next few interviews, will have to say I’m sick.’”

“Did you reply?” Harry asked, wishing he wasn’t so curious to know, wishing he could just stop caring about Louis, but he knew, deep inside, that was impossible. No matter what happened, he would always love Louis Tomlinson.

“Not yet. I don’t want to panic him about you when he’s on a flight and can’t exactly get the pilot to turn around…but I can imagine him wanting to do exactly that. There’s no point worrying him until he’s off the plane and can book another one back,” Liam was saying, but Harry was furiously shaking his head.

“Don’t! Don’t tell him anything.”

“Harry, if I don’t, one of the others will. I told them not to say anything until he’s landed, at least, but if I don’t, either Nialler or Zayn will… and he’s going to find out eventually. Anne will end up telling Jay, they talk…”

Harry huffed. “Well, if someone can let him know there’s no need for him to rush to my bedside. I’m not dying. S’just a broken arm.”

 

****

 

Louis’ phone was lying switched off and forgotten at the bottom of his pack-back. After getting no responses at all from Harry, he couldn’t bear the silence, the clear avoidance. A clean break. Heart heavy in his chest, Louis hurried off the plane and rushed into the airport to collect his suitcase and find Hannah, who he saw moments later, looking as pretty as ever and waving at him.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” Hannah beamed, hurrying over to hug Louis.

“Hey Hannah… good to see you…” Louis said, trying to smile. Grabbing his suitcase, he wheeled it away to check out and then left the airport with Hannah whose car was parked outside. She popped the boot open for Louis’ luggage and then they got in the car.

“You hungry? Wanna get some pizza?” she suggested.

“Pizza would be great,” Louis agreed, stomach grumbling. He hadn’t eaten anything since the night prior, when Harry had made them his special pasta dish. The thought of it made Louis’ heart clench.

“You know what the tabloids would think if they saw me driving you around Donny, don’t you?” Hannah laughed, as they pulled into Dominoes. “Speaking of which, you wait here. I’ll get the order. What’d you want?”

 

**

 

They’d taken the pizza to the city lake, stationed at the car-park, munching through their pizza’s and catching up, talking about old times and new times and watching the ducks swimming in the distance, little ducklings following their mothers.

“…wow, you are a busy bee, then, aren’t you? I don’t know how you boys do it. But everyone here’s proud of you, Lou. You made it.”

“Thanks, love. So you’ve just graduated, then? That’s great. Always knew you had the brains. What’s next, then?”

“I think I might travel for a while, for six months or so, and then come back and look for a job teaching drama now that I have the degree and the teaching diploma…I just don’t know if I wanna teach it here. I’m thinking about teaching abroad, if I can.”

“It’s funny to think that teaching drama was gonna be my career of choice. Until all of this happened. It’s crazy to think, that. I’d probably still be here. You probably would have had to help me with all my essays, and I wouldn’t have the lads, I wouldn’t have-” Louis stopped speaking abruptly. His name was on the tip of his tongue.

“…Harry?” Hannah finished for him softly.

“Love, I lied to you when I said that Harry and I weren’t together, and that I was with Eleanor. It’s just, it’s not supposed to get out, you know. Harry… Harry and me are a secret, okay, and really, only the boys know it as a fact, and a lot of the fans correctly speculate, and…our mum’s know, Gemma knows, Lottie and Fizzy know…” Louis was explaining, watching a speedboat belt along the lake in the distance.

“So, you’ve never been given the chance to come out? When… When did you know? I mean, when we were together…” Hannah began, watching Louis closely, and he was relieved to see that there was more interest in her eyes than hurt and betrayal, a sense of understanding radiating from her.

“I didn’t realise for ages. I… even when I met him, I was just confused, really. It took ages, really, to figure things out. I still haven’t figured much out,” Louis sighed.

“Did something happen, Lou? I mean, you’re here all of a sudden… not that it’s not great to see you, but you said so yourself, how busy you all are…”

“This is proper embarrassing but I got it into my head that things would be easier if… if I wasn’t gay. Management keep going onto my Twitter and writing things that are anti-gay, making me look like some homophobic jerk and I just… I had some kind of panic attack. I thought, maybe, if I saw you again… I could…I could bring myself back to when… when before all this happened, and before I met him, and things could be simple…” Louis said, looking at her perplexed expression and laughing in agreement. “I know, I’m an idiot. I’ve been gone for that other idiot since the day I met him, really. Don’t ask me what was going through my mind when I booked that bloody flight and called you at Satan o clock. If it helps redeem me in any way whatsoever, I was up all night, getting high, on my own, upset and angry…”

“You must have been really fucking high, Louis,” she said, smirking at him, “everyone knows you can’t just choose to change sexualities like changing outfits. Where’s Harry at the minute? What did you tell him? Can’t imagine he was too pleased when you said you were going to Doncaster to visit me?”

“H-He wasn’t pleased,” Louis agreed, voice cracking. “He called it quits because of it, actually. I was out of my mind at the time. Wasn’t thinking straight. He has it in his head that I’ve chosen you oven him and that I’ve come here to have my way with you…” Louis snorted.

“Lou, that’s not a laughing matter. If you’ve left him with that impression, no wonder he’s hurt. You need to fix it.”

“I don’t know how,” Louis said quietly, looking away. “This was just the tip of the ice-berg. Things were going well, on the surface, finally. It was finally going well and then I just fucked it up. Master of my own destruction, I am. I just… I can’t help thinking, maybe this is for the best? Maybe this is best for the band. Me and him can just be colleagues – I don’t think we can be just friends. It wouldn’t work.”

“I can’t believe you of all people would let your management drive a wedge between you and your partner…”

“I mean, I know, but he’s not likely to forgive me for this… as I said, it’s the tip of the ice-berg. We fight all the time, it’s probably not healthy. He’s always angry at me about Eleanor, like that’s _my_ fault?”

“Look, I’m only going to say this once. Even a blind man can see he’s head over heels in love with you. I’ve see the way he looks at you in interviews and such. You two idiots do belong together, I mean, what is this! What is this, Louis?” Hannah asked, grabbing his wrist and pointing at the rope tattoo. “And pray tell, what is this? And this?” she asked, pointing to the compass, the arrow, and next, to the newest of all, the dagger. “Because if you tell me it doesn’t mean anything when I know for a fact he has the anchor, the ship, the rose, I will slap you. You don’t get matching nautical tattoos for just anyone, do you? And tell me if I’m wrong, but that new album of yours… you wrote on the majority of it, didn’t you? I saw that interview you were in, Lou. I’ve been following you guys since day one – you know I think what you’ve achieved is awesome. That album has LARRY STYLINSON written all over it – no, don’t interrupt me, you’ve been putting nautical themed songs in since your third album. I think you’re like, soul mates, or something. I think you’re lucky to have each other and you’d be a fucking idiot if you were to throw it all away,” Hannah said seriously, and Louis felt the weight of her words echo through his very soul. He stared at the dagger, a small smile curving his lips.

“Yeah, okay, okay, stop nagging. I know what I have to do. But I’m here now… may as well enjoy it for a few days, yeah? Would you be a pal and take me to Stan’s?”

“We can go to Stan’s but you can drive, let’s switch…” she said, getting out of the car and opening Louis’ passenger seat door to trade places.

“So, Miss Walker, did you have a favourite song from the new album?” Louis smiled, getting in the driver’s seat and igniting the engine before backing out of the park and merging into the traffic.

“I like ‘Ready to Run’, it has some…interesting…lyrics,” she giggled, winding her window down and sticking her hand out as Louis pressed down harder on the accelerator, and still laughing, she attached her iPod to the adaptor and soon ‘Ready to Run’ was blasting through the speakers loudly, much to Louis’ surprise and amusement. Hannah started singing along and ‘dancing’ in her seat, swaying her shoulders about.

“ _There’s a lightning in your eyes I can’t deny / Then there’s me inside a sinking boat running out of time…”_ she sang and a moment later, Louis found himself singing along to his very own song, his voice and Hannah’s merging with his and the boy’s voices blasting through the speakers. Together they laughed and sang as they sped along the open road, the sun steadily sinking in the skies, Louis asking if she had any Robbie Williams they could jam to. Once they were at the traffic lights, they were both laughing until their sides were aching as drivers in the opposite lane looked at them, the sounds of Robbie Williams ‘Angels’ blasting at full volume.

_‘And doooown the waterfaaaaaall / Wherever it may take me / I know that life won’t break me / When I come to call / She won’t forsake me / I’M LOVING ANGELS INSTEAD!’_

Pulling next into the petrol station to fill up the tank, Louis popped the boot and pulled out his backpack, digging through his bag to pull out his phone and switch it on, supposing he should contact Stan before just arriving unannounced. There were, however, a dozen or so messages from the boys. Frowning, Louis opened them one by one.

The first was from Liam. _‘I don’t know how much I can say until I know you’ve landed… you should have landed by now if my calculation is correct. Harry’s been in an accident, Lou. He didn’t want me to say anything, but I know you’d wanna know.’_

The next message was from Niall. _‘We’re all at the hospital! Where are you?! What the fuck is going on?’_

“Shit,” Louis hissed, heart falling into his shoes as he rang Liam, sinking to the ground, Louis sat, defeated, with his back against the warm tyre.

“Hullo Tommo,” came Liam’s answer.

“Liam, what the fuck is going on? What do you mean Harry’s been in an accident? Is he okay? What the fuck happened?” Louis asked, his heart pounding furiously.

“Haz got into a bit of a car wreck, but he’s okay, don’t fret. Just a broken arm, a few nasty cuts and bruises, but he’ll live.”

“Fuck! How did this happen? Fuck, shit, fuck… I’ve only just got here! Damn it. I should have known. Harry should not be left to his own devices, not even for a second, I swear…”

“Well, he was on the way to mine, see. He was driving. I wasn't sure about him driving in that state, but he wouldn’t listen. He was driving and fiddling with his phone, a van smacked into him, sent them both hurling onto the verge. Doc said it could have been fatal and that Hazza’s extremely lucky that he got away with only a broken arm… fire brigade and all were there…”

“Everything alright Lou?” came Hannah’s voice. Louis looked up to find her standing over him with a few energy drinks and crisps in hand.

“Thanks, love,” he mouthed, taking the drink.

“Who’s that? Is that Hannah? You know Haz is right upset about that, don’t you?” Liam said in an unusually cold voice.

“Liam, it’s not what you think. Look, I’ll book another flight a.s.a.p. I’ll look for the earliest arrival, it’s gonna be at least nine hours. Fuck. Do you know when they’ll be releasing him?”

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Harry… he doesn’t want you here. He didn’t even want me to tell you that he was in hospital at all,” Liam revealed and Louis’ breath hitched at that. Harry didn’t want him there? Was that how little Louis meant to him now? “Lou, maybe it’s best if you just give it some time, yeah? Look, me and the lads have got it covered. I’ve already told Katie you have a bug, like you asked, so they’re cancelled your appearances for the week. We’ll take care of him, don’t worry…”

Louis felt like there was a hole in his heart. Everything was empty. He was alone and unwanted, sat against the burning hot rubber of the tyre underneath the Doncaster skies, as his ex-girlfriend observed him with what he knew was pity.


	3. For Tonight Let's Just Pretend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains drunk+high Lirry smut, you've been warned! =)

Fast asleep in the spare bedroom of Liam’s Beverly Hills apartment, it was nearing noon and Harry was still asleep. From the moment he was discharged, he’d been taken in by Liam, who’d stayed by his side and nursed him, dutifully bringing in extra blankets when Harry was cold, propping Harry up with pillows, bringing in healthy meals and fruit smoothies. He listened when Harry wanted to talk about it, and he never prompted Harry when it was clear that Harry wanted to be left alone with his thoughts. Harry was spiritually, physically and mentally exhausted, falling asleep early and waking up late every day – there was a numbness that had overtaken him, body and soul, a dark emptiness that was so far from where Harry’s energy usually resided, a part of Harry was able to recognise the fear in Liam’s eyes. Whoever Harry was at the moment was a stranger to both of them, this cloud of darkness and hopelessness seeming to hold Harry hostage, leaving him with no motivation, a feeling of indifference towards everything. Harry didn’t even have the drive to log into his Instagram, to check his Twitter, nor to see what the fans were leaving on his Tumblr dash. It was routine for Harry to regularly check in, but he no longer cared enough. A part of Harry had hoped, despite his demand that Louis stay away from him, that Louis would have still cared enough, nevertheless, to trample on every obstacle and come to his aid. Of course, such hopes were naïve of him, he knew. It was over, and the sun was dead, and the world may as well have stopped spinning.

“Finally awake, Haz?” Liam asked, his head sticking in through the gap of the door as Harry stretched and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“What’s the time?” Harry asked groggily.

“Just after noon. You hungry?”

“No.”

“Harry,” Liam said, disapprovingly.

“Liam,” Harry echoed, glaring.

“You should eat something... c’mon now, I’m meant to be taking care of you. What did you wanna eat? Just name it! Actually, on second thought…get up, get out of bed, c’mon Bazza, you’ve been in that bed far too long, two days, in fact! It’s not healthy to stay in bed all day and night – how are you not going bonkers? Get up, go take a shower, I’ll make us some brunch,” Liam instructed.

 “Okay, fine,” Harry agreed glumly and stumbled out of bed, making way for the private bathroom, before it occurred to him that he’d need Liam’s assistance. “Wait, Liam, I… I need a hand, if you wouldn’t mind… its awkward getting my shirt off with this sling, I can’t bend my arm, could you…?”

Liam chuckled and followed Harry into the bathroom, reaching for the hem of his shirt (a silk shirt covered in pictures of peacocks that he’d been wearing for the past two days because of the difficulty with changing), pulled it off and over Harry’s shoulders and head, brushing past Harry to open the glass shower doors and turn the shower on for him.

“You know, you can’t get that cast wet. I’ll just get some plastic bags and duct tape or something. I’ll be back!” Liam told him, leaving Harry there in the bathroom. Harry jiggled his way out of his trousers and yanked his briefs down, kicking the clothes on top of his silky peacock shirt that lay discarded on the bathroom mat. Liam appeared to be only mildly shocked when he returned a moment later with the plastic bags and duct tape, as like all the boys in One Direction, he was used to Harry’s love of nudity. Harry could still remember the days when they’d lived within the same apartment complex in London, sitting around on the sofa naked and enjoying the freedom, only to have Liam walk in and tell him that he had every right to walk around _his_ flat butt naked, but that he wouldn’t tolerate Harry sprawled out naked on his furniture.

Harry stood there impassively as Liam fastened the plastic bags in place over his cast, taping them together to hold them down with the masking tape.

“There you go, Haz. I’m just gonna be downstairs preparing brunch… sing out if you need me, okay?” Liam said. Harry nodded and got into the shower as Liam disappeared out of the bathroom and downstairs into the kitchen. Harry sighed and dunked his head, letting the steaming hot water drench and soak his hair. Reaching for the shower gel, Harry found that it was mighty awkward and in fact impossible trying to dispense the liquid with one hand into a hand that he couldn’t use… what was he supposed to use to squeeze the substance into his palm with, his teeth?

“LEEEEYUUUUM…” Harry shouted, but Liam was of course too far away to hear him now, and Harry’s voice was further drowned out by the high pressured gushing of the water. Harry nudged the shower doors open and stuck his head out, trying again, “LIAM? LI? I COULD USE A HAND…” but still there was no answer. Huffing, Harry stepped out of the shower, his sopping wet footprints drenching the blue bathroom tiles. Harry exited the bathroom, not bothering with trying in vain to fasten a towel to himself, he walked from the bedroom, soaking the carpet, and descended down the staircase, looking very much like a baby doe learning to walk. Gripping the stair rail for safety and not trusting himself not to have a fall (Harry recognised his innate clumsiness as it was, he wasn’t about to risk his chances when he was already sporting a broken arm and was hurrying down the staircase sopping wet from head to toe), Harry made it into the kitchen and spotted Liam preparing eggs and bacon in the frying pan.

“Liam? Sorry to bother you, err, I wondered… I wondered if I could borrow you for a second…” Harry voiced, announcing his presence which seemed to scare the living daylights out of Liam who hadn’t expected him to materialise like that in the kitchen, naked and drenched in water. Liam gasped and seemed to jump out of his skin, turning around and coming face to face with Harry, hand clutching his heart.

“Jesus, Harry, you just about gave me a heart attack!”

“Sorry,” Harry responded dryly, faintly aware that if this scenario were to be occurring prior to the whole break-up fiasco with Louis, he’d probably be finding this situation highly amusing. But not today. Harry remained impassive and blank as he stared at Liam, formulating the words in his mind as he slowly spoke, “I’m having difficulty dispensing shower gel and stuff into my hand because I only have one hand… and I also need to wash my hair. Help me?” Harry asked, unembarrassed and direct.

“Uhhhh…” Liam said slowly, dragging the sound out as he weighted up something in his mind, eyes pinning to Harry’s swallow tattoos, down to his navel, a faint tinge of colour bleeding into his cheeks as his big brown eyes moved back to Harry’s face enquiringly. “Y-Yeah, sure, Hazza, okay. Uh…this bacon though… it’s about to burn, um…”

“Don’t worry about it. Turn it off. I told you, I’m not hungry.”

“For fuck’s sake, Harry,” Liam growled, angry now – Harry could sense the Hulk-Liam emerging, “you have to eat. I agreed to look after you. And I promised your mum I would take good care of you. Now, after your shower, you are going to eat something decent, even if I have to force feed you, and don’t think I won’t.”

Harry sometimes hated Liam for his tough-love attitude, but at the same time, somewhere inside, some little part inside his shattered heart, he was reluctantly appreciative.

“Fine, but, just…turn that off. We can get take-out or something,” Harry suggested mildly, turning around and leading the way back upstairs, Liam catching up to him and slinging an arm over his shoulders to guide him, apparently agreeing with Louis’ notice that Harry really shouldn’t be left to his own devices, especially in the state he was in. Once back in the bathroom of the spare room, Harry slid back into the shower, leaving the glass doors open so that Liam could assist. Harry shimmied so that his back was facing Liam who was rolling his sleeves up and crouching. Silently Harry handed him the shower gel and loofa. Liam squeezed the vanilla scented liquid onto the loofa and handed it back to Harry, the sleeve to his hoodie getting saturated as he leant in to pass it to Harry. Mumbling his thanks, Harry soaped himself with the loofa and looked up into the splattering high pressured water droplets, hitting his face, he closed his eyes and soaked up the warmth and steam which was fogging up the glass behind him and the mirror. Harry next handed Liam the shampoo, holding his palm out for Liam to dispense into his hand, but a moment later, it was Liam’s fingers he felt massaging the shampoo into his scalp and lathering it up.

“How is it having me for a nurse-maid, Hazza? Better than Nigel or Wayne? Loads better, I should imagine. Niall would be the worst,” Liam said, chattering away now and speaking rapidly in all the ways Harry did not, and in that sense, they were complete opposites. Harry, who deliberated with every word that came out of his mouth, expressing them slowly, and artfully, a drowsy and raspy speech pattern, whereas Liam rambled, words carelessly leaving his mouth. (Louis still wouldn’t let the psychiatry thing drop). Harry was hardly following Liam’s attempt at conversation, only vaguely aware that he was now onto the subject of getting Niall a nail file as a Christmas present and writing on the card, ‘dear Nail File, I hope this will come in handy. P.S, sort the toe-jam out, would you?’. In fact, Liam was so lost in his rambles that he didn’t seem aware that he’d been lathering Harry’s hair with shampoo for over five minutes, the top of Harry’s head looking like a giant foamy bubble.

“Li, I think that’s enough lather.”

“Oh, right you are, Haz! Time to rinse! Lean in!” he instructed, pushing the back of Harry’s neck in to rinse the shampoo off, drenching his sleeves and shirts as he did so. “Damn it, I’m getting saturated here!” he complained.

“Take it off,” Harry suggested.

“Well, I will, won’t I? The things I do for you, Styles!”

“Or you could just get in, take everything off, like, and then you don’t have to worry about getting your clothes wet,” Harry added as an after-thought, as if this was the most natural and normal thing in the world, for two mates to casually shower together. “Plus, you might as well, don’t let water go to waste…”

“I might as well, might I? You know, Haz, if you were your old chipper self, I might have to decline and worry that you’re trying to seduce me. But considering as you don’t seem to care whether it’s me or Barack Obama washing you… actually…on second thought…that was a bad comparison, wasn’t it? According to the tabloids, you’re sleeping with Obama,” Liam sniggered.

“Yeah, hilarious…” Harry said without a trace of amusement in his voice.

“Alright, budge over, this is an awkward angle anyway – but I’m leaving my pants on,” he warned, yanking his hoodie and white singlet shirt underneath off, throwing them on top of Harry’s pile of forgotten clothes, he then kicked his sweatpants off, and leaving his briefs on, inched into the shower behind Harry.

“Conditioner?” Liam asked, reaching for the bottle.

Harry shook his head.

“No, I don’t use it. S’not good for your hair, over-stimulates the oil glands, makes it oilier…”

“Okay, whatever, can you move? And pass me that razor – actually, since I’ve got you here, if I put shaving cream on my face, can you…? Yeah?” Liam said, brushing the cream over his cheeks, upper lip, chin, and jaw. With Harry’s good hand, he dragged the razor carefully over Liam’s stubble, giving him a smooth shave. Liam wiped the leftover shaving cream off with a flannel.

“Cheers, now, you ready to get out? You know, it’s a good thing Mr little sass queen can’t see us now, he’d surely go into a Tommo rage. His possessiveness is really quite psychotic sometimes! I mean, imagine, he’d get jealous of this, even though I’m basically being your nurse and am as straight as a ruler-”

“Some rulers are bendy,” Harry said, stepping out and reaching for a fluffy towel, tilting his broken arm away and trying to dab at his body with the towel, dropping it to the floor several times, and then attempting to wrap it around his hips. Sighing, Liam pointedly looked away as he stepped closer and wrapped the towel around Harry’s hips, accidentally brushing Harry’s ‘might as well’ tattoo. Fastening the towel into place, Liam cleared his throat, looking up into his friend’s questioning and intense expression. Harry could feel the mingling of breath and felt his heart suddenly jumpstart to life and it was both the strangest and most exhilarating feeling he had experienced in weeks.

“Be that as it may…” Liam began, trailing off and meeting Harry’s gaze again as he wrapped another fluffy towel around himself and scooped up their discarded clothes. Harry followed Liam into the laundry downstairs. Without delay, Liam threw the article of clothes into the washing machine, tipped the powder in and turned it on.

“Right, Harry, I’m just gonna get dressed. Think about what you wanna eat, we could invite Nialler and Zayn round? Actually, get dressed, go upstairs and get changed into something warm, it’s freezing out.”

Harry made a bee-line back to the spare room as Liam’s bedroom door snapped shut. Apart from the clothes he’d worn on the day he’d left the Hideout, he’d only packed a pair of jeans and a ripped te-shirt, too upset and angry to even be focused with packing properly. He met Liam in the hallway between their rooms five minutes later – Liam clad in a wholly turtleneck cream coloured jersey, Nike trackpants and thick woollen socks. Harry emerged barefoot, wearing black jeans with rips at the knees and a torn white tee-shirt, often shared by Louis…it was oversized on Louis and a snug fit on Harry.

“Harry, you can’t wear that. Did you not pack anything else? Typical. Come on, get in here,” Liam sighed, dragging Harry into his room, he opened his closet and pulled out a maroon woollen jersey, fished out some grey sweatpants and socks for Harry. For good measure he threw a pair of sheepskin slippers Harry’s way. Liam left Harry to get changed and Harry couldn’t help thinking that Liam Payne was a weird mixture of nana and steamy manliness. _‘I mean, even a blind man can see he’s Sugar Daddy. Those abs. That chest. Ugh,’_ a rather frustrated voice in Harry’s head groaned, making Harry freeze in place.

****

Niall and Zayn had popped round and they’d all shared pizza and tried to cheer Harry up with old episodes of Friends, but it didn’t cheer Harry up at all. It only served to remind him of Louis, who was also a fan of the show. They’d often watch the box set DVD collections together while unwinding on a day off. Half way through the episode of Ross yelling about pivoting the sofa, Liam had turned it off and suggested they all go out for a night on the town. “Something to take our minds off all the…stress…” he’d explained. Harry just wasn’t in the mood and told them so. It’s not like he wasn’t grateful for their support, but what hurt more than anything was the fact that when they came together in a group like this, without Louis, it was painstakingly obvious how different the dynamic was without their fifth member. How painful everything was without his other half.

“I appreciate you being here, I do. I just…I’m not up for it, not yet. I’ll call you when I am, yeah? I just…I’m just tired,” Harry had explained to a concerned Niall and Zayn. By the look on Zayn’s face, Harry knew that Zayn knew everything that was going on within Louis’ inner world, after all, they told each other everything. The thing that sucked about this acute state of depression was that Harry had to keep using tiredness as an excuse as to why he couldn’t participate. Niall and Zayn weren’t about to argue, and Harry rather got the impression that they were treading carefully, feeling as if they were walking on eggshells around him. Liam, it seemed, was the only person in his life right now who didn’t care about treading carefully. When he thought Harry had been in bed too long, he forced Harry out of bed, and when he wanted Harry to eat, he made Harry eat.

It was now eleven at night and Harry was in bed, tossing and turning and unable to switch off. The worst part about everything, he reflected, was the way in which Louis, off sick with a “bug”, was rendered into an invisible ghost. The other boys didn’t dare bring his name up if they could help it. Harry knew they talked when he wasn’t around, so why should his presence make it any different? Harry half wanted to know what Zayn knew, to pick his brains and question him until he spilled everything. It also didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out whose side Zayn had chosen, Harry thought bitterly. No doubt Louis had tipped poison in his ears, he thought, turning again on his side and closing his eyes, trying to fruitlessly will sleep upon himself. Only Louis could turn everything on its head and make Harry out to be the bad guy. He could already picture what Louis might be saying to Zayn, _‘He totally fucking over-reacted, Z. He’s so clingy and insecure! And he didn’t even let me come visit him and he could have fucking died, how selfish is that?’_

Harry didn’t even realise he was crying until he felt the dampness of his pillow against his cheek. Tears were streaking his face, spilling past his chin as he sobbed into the hand, trying to muffle the noise, scared to wake Liam up. It was the most heart-wrenching thing – it wasn’t like Louis had died, but Harry grieved as if he were dead. It wasn’t Harry being overly morbid, it was a young man mourning his loss. Who Louis had been in Harry’s world, who Louis was, the rope to his anchor and the nautical star in his heart, guiding his ship home, aided by a compass that only pointed one way, was now gone. All the nautical miles between them growing infinitively vast, what they had, now a wreckage in the depths of the Atlantic, the remnants of a sailor’s blue and watery graveyard. Harry cried himself to sleep that night, mourning his loss, for while Louis was very much alive, all links were severed. They had died.

****

The next week of promo was hell. Louis had “recovered” from his bug and was back on deck for the interviews and promotion of the album. It had been the first time they’d been in the same room since that fateful night at the Hideout. Harry thought he was going to vomit, and he knew he couldn’t look at Louis without falling apart. His only option had been to pretend that Louis wasn’t even there, and they were effortlessly back to their 2013 selves, sitting on opposite ends of sofas as they were interviewed, remaining blank when the other spoke. Adding salt to the wounds, there had been a lot of mention of Eleanor, with Louis even bringing her up willingly on multiple occasions, laughing, seemingly carefree and _happy._ He told jokes as usual and appeared to be his typical energetic, electric self.

Arriving back at Liam’s in the late afternoon, Harry made a decision. He was no longer going to lie in bed until noon every day, moping and crying and unable to eat. Louis clearly wasn’t even affected at all by the split! Harry had to seriously ask himself why he was even torturing himself over someone who clearly didn’t give a damn about him?

“Li, I wanna go out tonight,” Harry decided, flicking the kettle on to make a cuppa.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Yep. Let’s bring Ed, Kellie Osbourne too? She’s good value. I’ll send a group text out…”

“Sounds ace. You adding Nialler and Zayn to that group message or shall I text them?”

“Actually, Liam, can we… can we not include them on this one? I mean, I don’t want to be mean or anything, it’s just…I feel like they’re walking on eggshells around me and I just don’t need that right now. We can do something with them later, just them and us, but tonight, let’s just…” Harry was trying to explain, gesturing with his good arm.

“I get it, Haz,” Liam said, clapping him on the back. “What they don’t know won’t kill them,” he added.

****

Having washed and ironed his peacock shirt and black jeans with the rips at the knees, and clad in his usual worn out brown boots, Harry and Liam hit the town that night, rubbing shoulders with everyone who was anyone, from Ed to Kellie to Lana Del Rey. It wasn’t long before Harry was wasted off his face, using alcohol as a self-meditation, a distraction. For a man who’d supposedly had a bung kidney, Liam could also put a lot of alcohol away. The night was a blur of different clubs and faces and odd conversations. One moment Harry and Kellie Osbourne were discussing the meaning of life on the roof of her apartment and throwing back cocktails, and a moment later, he was dancing with Liam in a club and male strippers were prancing around the stage, and, Harry had never seen it before now – buff men in nothing but tight speedo’s throwing themselves around poles. There was lots of laughter and dancing. Harry, Lana Del Rey and Liam were next in an Irish pub that Niall would be proud of, ordering pints and joining a crowd of strangers outside. There was a man who looked like Jesus, and he was telling Lana about his experiences with astral travelling.

“I’ve tried it a few times myself, but I’ve never had much luck,” she told the Jesus lookalike.

“You’re thinking too hard. Come back to mine, we can show you how it’s done!” he’d promised, and that’s how Lana Del Rey, Harry, Liam and Kellie Osbourne ended up in a flat occupied by hippies who seemed intent on teaching them the art of astral travel and handing around shared joints.

“Go on, it’ll help you unwind and get into the right state of mind for astral projection,” Jesus man told Harry who hesitantly took the joint while a woman who looked like Janis Joplin sat herself in Liam’s lap. Liam was laughing and playfully smacking her thigh and Harry caught sight of them leaning in for drunken and mindless kisses while another hippy banged a snare drum and the Jesus man assumed the cross-legged lotus meditation position.

****

 

“Hahahahahah! Did you see…the look…on…his…face…when…he…realised…hahahaha!” Harry wheezed, collapsing into Liam. Together they’d somehow stumbled safely back to Liam’s apartment, having found a taxi at five thirty in the morning, Liam had managed to remember and recite his address.

“Hahaha! Think I’ll quit One Direction Haz and become a yogi monk!” Liam laughed while Harry wobbled and fell to the floor of Liam’s lounge, dragging Liam with him. Lying flat on their backs on the fluffy rug, basking in darkness, Harry continued to laugh, and the more he laughed, the harder it was to stop, until he didn’t even know what was funny anymore.

“Heh, we should do this again…” Liam said, leaning over Harry to turn the lamp on, providing some light into the lounge. The apartment was cold and quite, but a moment later, the distant sounds of people walking along the pavements outside could be heard, bottles smashing and fading crowds shouting and cackling.

A comfortable silence gripped them and they continued to lay there on the floor. Harry turned on his side, elbow digging into the rug, his chin resting in the cup of his hand as he observed Liam, a small smile tugging the corners of his lips.

“Liam,” Harry voiced, breaking the silence.

Liam looked rather drowsy as he raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. Thanks you. To be thanking you for it all and I know I’ve been a shit lately,” he slurred, slicing closer until he was hovering over Liam, his good arm slung over him, the palm of his hand pressed against the floor and supporting his weight.

“Don’t even mention it, Bazzy Bazza. It’s what any friend would do…”

“See, I don’t know about that,” Harry said, slumping against Liam now, his head resting on his chest.

“Hazza, that’s nonsense. No seeeense,” he sang.

“You’re a good friend. Top notch. Good human being, you are. No wonder you wanted to be a fire man, Li. You have a saving people complex, don’t you?” Harry beamed at him, and it was the first time Harry felt like himself in weeks. He finally felt light and carefree and somewhere close to happy again and he wanted to bask in this feeling for as long as he could. It was a warm distraction, like finding a fire to lay beside after braving a night camping in a blizzard.

“Whoops, you know my secret,” Liam said, absently playing with Harry’s hair.

“It’s a selfless kind of ambition, that,” Harry said, snuggling closer into Liam until he was spooning against him with his nose buried in the crook of his neck, getting a whiff of his musky cologne. “Wish more people were like you, Liliiii…”

“What’s gotten into you, you snuggle buggle,” Liam laughed, slapping Harry’s knee.

“You’re cuddly and warm,” Harry said.

“Am I just?”

“Mmmhmm…” Harry mumbled against his neck, and without thinking, without even planning his next movements, Harry’s lips were on Liam’s neck, kissing the skin gently, causing Liam to freeze up.

“Harry, Harry, hahaha, Harry, what are you dooooing?” he slurred, squirming.

“Worshipping,” Harry answered, kissing now along the column of Liam’s throat and moving until he was lying on top of Liam, he started sucking a purple bite into the flesh just under his ear, causing a whimper to escape Liam, whose hands wound their way into Harry’s mane of locks tighter, tugging and pulling the hair.

“I should like to try…a little something,” Harry whispered, his lips an inch from Liam’s. Liam’s eyes were black in the lounge, lost in the shadows, a faint silhouette emanating from their forms as they moved together clumsily in the dark. The heat of their breath mingled together and Harry didn’t have any logical understanding of what he was doing. Everything was sensation and feeling and a desire for warmth and Liam was so warm, emotionally warm and caring and he was like a shelter, Harry decided. He was a shelter during the storm, his home away from home, his refuge, his comforting sanctuary. Liam’s brown eyes were hidden by the blown pupils. Harry urgently pulled Liam’s jersey off and yanked his shirt underneath off, admiring the broad and tan muscular chest, he smacked his lips against Liam’s, moaning into the kiss. Harry’s hands roamed up and down his chest, ticking at his navel, the warm wet length of their tongues coiling together as their hips started to grind and thrust, hardening cocks trapped within their briefs and jeans, straining.

The kisses continued, changing pace from languid and slow and experimental to fast and angry and hurt. It was like Harry was pouring all his fury and self-hatred and bitter disappointment into the kiss and Liam responded just as passionately, as if driven by some forbidden desire, some kind of desperation, frustration and loathing, loathing for wanting something he shouldn’t want.

“H-Haz,” Liam gasped once they’d pulled their mouths apart. Harry’s mouth was throbbing and Liam’s lips were swollen from the kisses. He swallowed thickly, frowning at Harry in the dim light. “Is…Should we…I don’t know if this is…”

“Shut up and don’t think for once, Lili,” Harry whispered against his ear, grinding his hips in a circle on top of Liam which caused Liam to stiffen and go silent. Harry’s heart was pounding so quickly it was almost hurting, banging against his chest, his blood on fire, racing through his veins, every pulse in his body hyper alert.

“Fuck…oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Liam chanted, closing his eyes as Harry moved down his body, kissing a butterfly trail from his neck, along his collarbone, down his chest and to his navel, Harry began sucking a purple bite onto his hip as he slid Liam’s black skinny jeans off, throwing them behind his shoulder. Without a moment’s hesitation, Harry palmed the straining and bulging cock trapped behind briefs, pleased to see a little wet patch at the centre. Harry moved down between Liam’s legs and grabbed his thighs with his able hand, dunking his head and licking at his dick through the cotton material, causing Liam’s abs to tense. “Christ, oh fuck, please, fuck, shit,” he moaned, as Harry opened his mouth around the bulge, breathing hotly against it, and then pressed the side of his face against it, closing his eyes and groaning, mouth drooling. He couldn’t wait to get this dick inside his mouth and he could feel his own dick throbbing with anticipation.

“What is it, Li?” Harry asked, shooting Liam a joker’s smile, sat on his knees between his legs.

“H-Haz… oh fuck…please, do it, do something, I want…oh God…” Liam groaned, squeezing his eyes tight shut and swallowing thickly.

“You want Hazza to suck Daddy’s cock?” Harry asked in a sugary voice, absently palming his dick straining through the briefs again, causing Liam to tense.

“Y-Yesssss.”

“Say it, Daddy. Please say it for me. Say, ‘Be a good whore and suck Daddy’s cock.’”

Liam moaned at Harry’s words and echoed him, “Be a good…w-whore…and…ugh…s-suck Daddy’s cock,” he whimpered.

“Replay,” Harry said slyly, sitting on top of Liam’s cock again and circling his hips, causing Liam to gasp, grabbing onto Harry’s hips.

“Fuck. Be a good whore and suck Daddy’s cock.”

“I will, Daddy. Wait right here, princess will be back. Don’t go anywhere, or else,” Harry giggled, leaving Liam lying on the floor, wrecked and panting, his chest heaving up and down heavily. Harry ran upstairs, heart racing, and dug through his toiletry bag, looking for his favourite shade of bright pink lipstick. Dashing into the bathroom mirror, Harry applied the lipstick carefully, and was about to turn on his heel and return to Liam, when something caught his eye.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Harry asked himself, catching sight of peach coloured women’s lingerie in a Victoria’s Secret bag. Harry rummaged inside, pulling out a card that said ‘For Sophia’. Harry scoffed at the note and pulled out the items. Alongside bras and lacy undies was a nude coloured corset with black lace trimmings and garter stockings. Overwhelmed and too drunk and high to care, Harry stripped off and eased his body into the corset. It was a tight fit, but he’d managed to squeeze his way into the corset. Biting his lower lip, Harry admired his reflection and smirked to himself, hurrying downstairs and returning to Liam who was still on the floor where he’d left him, looking torn between begging Harry for a blowjob and fleeing the country, a sweat breaking out all over his face.

“H-Harry, fuck, you’re w-wearing…” Liam trailed off, voice rough and breaking.

“Your girlfriends sexy lingerie, I know,” Harry beamed, moving back between Liam’s wide spread legs, he slowly and tauntingly slipped his briefs off, grabbing the cock that sprung out. “Mmhmm such a nice big dick, Daddy Direction,” Harry commented, pumping it up and down, before dunking his head and engulfing the entire dick in his mouth, allowing it to brush the back of his throat before slipping it out again and lapping at the head, before bobbing his head up and down with grabbing the base. Liam was an incoherent, slurring and overwhelmed mess.

“Sh-Shiiiit, oh fuck, shit, like that, babe…” he cried, pulling Harry’s hair so hard Harry’s scalp was stinging but he was enjoying every second of it and a moment later, Liam’s stomach was tightening and he was shooting his load down Harry’s throat.

“So good, your cock tastes so good…” Harry whispered in Liam’s ear, lips meeting again in a heated and burning kiss, wet tongues slipping and sliding together. Harry was surprised, a moment later, when Liam grabbed Harry’s hips and carefully flipped him onto his back.

“Anyone ever tell you what an obscene dirty little princess you are?” Liam asked, voice rough, dark eyes glinting. “I have half a mind to punish you for it and fuck you… might have to spank you first. Dirty princesses need to learn. Get up! Bend over the sofa and don’t move,” Liam instructed, and Harry felt his dick twitch in the lacy undies as Liam retreated into the kitchen. Obeying orders, Harry curved himself over the arm of the sofa, ass in the air. Liam returned a moment later carrying a wooden spoon. Standing behind Harry, his breaths were heavy and laboured as he whacked Harry’s ass with the wooden spoon, before sliding it against his cock and rubbing it tauntingly up and down, causing Harry to whine.

Harry could feel his own pre come gathering and the heat pooling in his navel as Liam spanked. The next thing he was aware of was Liam eagerly pulling the corset off and tearing the lacy undies away, leaving Harry’s bare ass exposed, he started spanking Harry’s flesh with it, again and again, harder and harder until the skin was reddened and pulsating. Harry moaned deeply with every strike, rubbing his dick against the sofa with every hit that Liam gave him.

“D-Daddy, fuck me, fuck…fuck me, please…” Harry pleaded, his voice even raspier than usual, feeling completely and utterly destroyed when Liam whispered dirty things in his ear, things he’d never imagined Liam even being capable of uttering. _‘Gonna let Daddy eat you out, babe? Gonna let Daddy tear this pussy up? Such a good, compliant, dirty princess…’_

_****_

Harry woke up the next day feeling like he hadn’t had a drink of water in weeks, as if he’d woken up in a desert, dehydrated, his very brain seeming to throb in agony against his skull. Cracking an eye open, Harry was surprised to find himself asleep in Liam’s king sized bed, with none other than Liam curled up against him. Harry frowned, wondering if he’d had another crying episode in his room last night and supposing that this time Liam had heard him and had taken pity on him. But then Harry’s heart dropped into his stomach when he realised that he was naked and Liam’s legs were flung over his and fuzzy snapshots of the night prior flashed through his brain. There was Kellie Osbourne and Lana Del Rey and the Jesus man and suddenly they were at the Jesus man’s flat with all his hippy friend and suddenly Harry saw himself admiring his reflection in the mirror, clad in a tight fitting corset, gifted to Sophia…

Harry gasped, recalling the feel and taste of Liam’s thick cock in his mouth, the vague memory of filthy whisperings, _‘Such a good, compliant, dirty princess…’_

Harry’s stomach lurched. Tentatively, he lifted the thick red duvet up and found to his horror that they were both naked. Liam mumbled something in his sleep and curled into Harry’s stiffened body. This was not good. This was not good at all. He was in serious deep shit.


End file.
